.
It raced. It raced with splayed hooves that spread further and further, furrowing the ground deeper and
deeper as it went. Rich rust speeding by on thin stilts of white, through trees and over hills. Glens were
mere blinks of long eyelashes and fields were filled with mines, to be avoided at all cost. The Warrior
cleared easily over logs and moved quickly through underbrush as it raced forward further and
further. The being's muscles burned, lungs and heart pumping like overtime bellows to feed them
oxygen. Sharp autumnal air fueled more and more leaps, bounds, and sprints. Wasted air, carbon
dioxide and small amounts of water exhaled in a pure white smoke from a blackened velvet nose and
panting maw. Each swallow forced back a scream of agony that would continue to build. To run, to hide...
... or to die?
Death bayed and nipped at its hooves. There was nothing else left, it seemed.
A vial swayed on the deer's neck, letting loose a light jingling noise. A tinkling laughter...
One of the seven hairs of the Coyote vanished from within and The Warrior evaded death yet again.
"And what was I to do?"
.
A writing. Nothing more.
